


Press One For Assistance

by thesorceressfromthelake



Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Norman Osborn Being a Jerk, Other, Outing, Pining, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Time Travel, break it and it still goes better than canon, something that resembles accidental outing at least, technically—knowledge of green lantern very not required
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesorceressfromthelake/pseuds/thesorceressfromthelake
Summary: Steve was dead, Doctor Strange read magical languages, and he's just gave the Illuminati an incredible amount of power in so many ways. Tony wondered if he ever knew what he was doing.A box appeared in the Avengers tower and Tony Stark learned exactly what motivated him.





	1. Before the War

**Author's Note:**

> In which the Avengers try out their new toys, but war still comes.

**Floor 93, Stark Tower, New York, NY: 01/08/07: 00:09:47 AM**

**Objective: Determination of delivery and use of package.**

**Action needed: Situation must be monitored. Action shall only be taken at drastic points.  
Definition of drastic shall be determined situationally. Definition of drastic will be defined conservatively. **

**Status: Ongoing. Monitoring in process. Proceed.**

The box arrives on Monday, January eighth of two thousand seven at exactly nine forty-seven in the morning at the very edge of the kitchen counter on the very top floor of the Avengers Tower. No one was around to tell that except the cameras and Tony Stark who, by his own design and creation, was also the cameras. 

Or perhaps arrives is the wrong word to use. Arrives implies the box came from somewhere. That it was delivered by an older FedEx employee who would pronounce your name incorrectly or even teleported in by some super villain or socially unaware scientific friend who didn’t find it extremely creepy to send their friends sudden mysterious items and, as Tony Stark and his cameras saw the box arrive, he was already mentally putting money on this being Reed Richards. As far as Tony could tell, the box came from nothing and nowhere. No recognizable particles surrounding it, no evidence that anything had entered the building. It was not there, and then it was. 

Luke Cage was the first person to actually find the box and, as a sensible sort of person, when faced with a broken down wooden box in the middle of a counter with a gold latch on the side and intense, black indented scribbles written on nearly every inch, which had, he distinctly remembers, not been on the counter when he had been sitting there ten minutes ago, turned and walked out the door. Jessica Jones, who had followed him into the room, took one look at the box and followed him right back out. “This is going to be some kind of weird Avengers thing, huh.”

“Babe, you think I want to talk about this?”

This was not the weirdest thing that had ever happened in the Avengers tower. It was not even within the top twenty weirdest things and, after a quick and irritated examination from an Emma Frost, Iron Man losing yet another bet against himself, and a more thorough examination by Dr. Reed Richards, the Avengers finally crowded around. Spider-man sent a quick, furtive look around the room. “So, who wants to open this thing? Because, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie, and it doesn’t end super well for the person who opens the box. It doesn’t really end well for the people who around around the person who opens the box either I guess so maybe I’m gonna stand over here. See if MJ wants to catch a movie or something. Friendly neighborhood Spider-man my way around, you know. Not be cursed.”

Peter continued to babble and Steve opened the box. Expectations were low, or high depending on how one looked at it. Low for anything they wanted to deal with and high for danger but what none of them really expected to find at the bottom was seven small rings. 

*  
Each of them had their favorites. It took a while for any of them to work their way up to trying one on, but eventually, after several days, intensive examination from the Fantastic Four, more scientists, two more psychics, and three magic users, it was eventually determined they would never figure out what the rings did unless they used them. And so they did. 

The Avengers decided early on the rings should be communal. Tony locked them up in the Avengers tower, but if anyone wanted one to use, even if they weren’t an Avenger, they only had to ask. This would not be the case for long, but that was then and then it was. 

The rings were strange. They weren’t like the Infinity Stones, all full of infinite power if only one could manage to use them, they weren’t like magic, they weren’t like superpowers, and they weren’t even entirely consistent when someone could use one or what they could do. 

They were wonderful tools, Tony told the Illuminati, extraordinary, strange, messy, so very tempermental, so hard to quantify, or use. 

Green was the most useful, the Avengers decided. Everyone on the team could use green and it all went slightly different for each of them wearing it—Peter found himself flying straight through buildings when swinging, Jessica could suddenly turn invisible, Steve shielded even more in battle, wrapping green light around anyone who might have been hurt, Luke surrounded himself with energy, Sentry could heal himself, and Tony would suddenly have several more hands in the lab that would just create, create, create. Orange was the least. None of them could use orange. Not a single person who touched orange could use it. 

Steve loved the blue ring. “It just feels right,” he confided in Sam while they patrolled. “Using it, it’s like you know you’ve done something good. It only works if you feel right. It can make a shield, see? Not everybody can use it, but I bet you could.” And so Sam did and, even without his wings, he began to fly. Peter learned the same trick, flying around the streets with the blue ring under his costume. Peter stuck a note on the safe Tony kept the rings in, “save green or blue for your friendliest Spider-person,” because no matter how hard or long he tried with the others nothing ever happened. 

Jessica Drew used the red ring as a tool, switching between it and indigo depending on the day, on the mood. She could use one some days and the other another, never close together. “I’d get vertigo if I tried to go back and forth,” she tried to explain to Carol, “it’s too different, too much.” Steve could use red too, but it left lead in his stomach, left his hands burning, his heart pounding hard in his chest, it was so hard to take off when he put it on, and he couldn’t seem to use it to do anything but hurt. Luke used it to hurt too, but Luke could use it right. Luke could use violet one day, blue the next, green the next, and red the day after that like no one else on the team could switch between them. 

The only Avenger who could use the black ring was Sentry, him and Reed Richards who gave a strange nod when putting it on for the first time. Black never felt right and neither did yellow, but weapons were weapons and no one ever needed to like a weapon to use one. 

Tony could use yellow, with Extremis, it made him feel strong like green and violet didn’t. Luke loved violet, just like he loved blue and red and green. Violet left Tony sick and jumbled inside, not bad, just a little uncomfortable. But, when he wore it, suddenly Steve’s wounds would disappear during a battle, blasts that would have hit suddenly disintegrated, he could sense danger like Peter, could fly without his suit. He could do so much more with it than almost anything else so Tony kept the violet ring on his finger and ignored the trembling when he used it, every day growing a little more comfortable, growing to admire the feeling, and the stars. 

The white ring stayed with Sue Richards nee Storm. None of the Avengers could use it and she certainly could so why not give it to someone who’d find it useful. 

And then six hundred children died in Stanford, Connecticut and when Steve Rogers went to retrieve his blue ring before leaving Stark tower, it was already gone. 

**Objective: Determination of delivery and use of package.**

**Action needed: N/A**

**Status: Complete. Objective achieved. Proc—**

**It’s a report. This is how to file a report.**

**Yes, I do have to talk this way, Iron—**

**Disregard previous statements. Objectives achieved. Proceed.**


	2. Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have great love in your heart. Or, the Illumani takes ahold of another power they do not understand.

**Objective: Observation. Determination of success.  
**

**Action needed: N/A. History doesn’t change easily. This wouldn’t. Don’t interfere—this is not your fight.**

**Status: N/A. Just watch. He’s done this once.**

Tony’s stuck in the moment where Steve reached out his hand, finger bare, EMP hidden in his hand. Tony reached out his hand and the ring gleamed violet and Tony convulsed broken on the ground. That, he decided, was when it all began to end. Steve has never looked at Tony like he hated him before—that’s why it took him so long to recognize the look on his face, Tony told himself. Anyone else, he would have known right away. Tony grew to recognize what hatred looked like in all his friends, hardened his heart and his mask and watched his family die.

The war went as the war went: families splintering, heroes and villains hunted down in the  
streets, mad science, clones, bitterness and press conferences and civilian casualties. The war  
ended with one man standing over another, with a choice between murder and surrender. Steve  
Rogers dropped his shield and Steve Rogers died, so it went before, so it went again. The  
Director of SHIELD muttered a confession in a room without cameras, held a funeral in the rain, and the world kept on turning.

Tony didn’t know where people thought the rings were. The Mighty Avengers should have them,  
he told himself, against every instinct in his body that rebelled against the thought. Not when he took them away, hid them through the entire war. It wouldn’t be right, to give them to the friends he hadn’t betrayed, but Tony was selfish, and he kept the one. Tony wore black gloves with his uniform, and a ring underneath his gloves. The ring was too large to hide under them, but it hardly mattered if he always kept his hands under his gauntlets, his face under a mask. He had an entirely new title and never felt more like he was made of metal.

If Tony were on the steps of that courthouse, if Tony were standing anywhere near Steve, he  
could have healed him. Tony hasn’t taken the violet ring off since Steve died. He’d healed so much from it, repaired bullet holes like they were never there, sealed over burns, healed in way doctors and sometimes even magic never could. He’d wondered, darkly, in a whisper, in the back of his mind, if it could bring back the dead. He wondered what would have happened if he’d fallen to his knees beside Steve’s body, bloodstained shield against his chest and tried. Tony stared at the ring. The Steve in the corner of the room looked at him like he wanted him dead.

Tony left the other rings under lock and key deep within SHIELD, security codes overlaid  
with security codes. He built a ball that would only open for his thumbprint, left it in a safe hidden in his office. Sue Storm screamed at him for corrupting, for manipulating her husband, threw the white ring at him like she couldn’t stand to keep something Tony had given her. It hit his chest, rolled down onto the ground, and now he had that one too. He’s had too many factors to deal with, quasi-military organizations to run, former friends to avoid, nightmares to sink into, to many points and worries to expend so much energy to the rings, but he did need to deal with them. They were too powerful to leave locked up in SHIELD, too much danger into falling into the wrong hands, even though Tony could hardly tell who the right hands were anymore.

Until he’s almost murdered by the Mandarin and he realized someone needed to have some power here. And he realized exactly who could handle power.

*  
“Why did you call us here, Stark?”

The Illuminati were not the type of people Tony wanted to be around for an extended period, as much as he might like certain members on an individual level. It turned out the smartest men in the world made an explosive group.The people he did like to spend time around, however, seemed to not be on speaking terms with him, so he supposed he’d have to deal with what he could. The Illuminati were, while not always personable, certainly trustworthy. He kept his suit up, still, and his voice altered. This was not the place to be vulnerable.

He felt himself shiver, set the small silver ball that held the rings down, letting his armor phase back into his body for just a moment so he could press his fingers in. The ball uncurled and Dr. Strange’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the rings on the table, focusing in and picking up the yellow one examined it. Black Bolt frowned. “And what,” he asked, “are those?”

Tony opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by Reed who launched into a long, tech-heavy explanation on the rings, their mysterious arrival, their various properties, and the effects they were able to produce. Tony cut in on occasion to give a little more detail on the history, but let Reed do most of the talking. Reed had been talking a lot less, lately. It was nice to hear his voice. “It’s fascinating—they react fundamentally differently depending on who’s using them. There’s a limited amount of crossover in the power they can produce. Even people who were able to use the same rings didn’t necessarily create the same power when using the same ring. It’s fascinating—it’d be so hard to design technology so individualized to the person.”

“Yes, magic glowing rings are very technical.”

Strange shook his head at Namor. “If it’s magic, it’s none I’ve ever seen.”

T’Challa, face clear of his mask, raised his eyebrows. “Stark, correct me if I am wrong, but are there still not Avengers who could use these? Or could you not keep them as property of SHIELD, Mr. Director?”

Tony did not want to keep it at SHIELD, but he would if he had to. Leaving them in the back of his office sounded like such a waste, but leaving them with people he sees every day makes his stomach drop even more. He touched the blue ring on the table. He can’t feel it through the armor. “This seemed like the best place for them.” T’Challa looks at him, assessing, and then nodded, then reached out to test the orange ring, frowned when he couldn’t get a reaction. He’d had great success with green, created giant green hands, and then a map of Wakanda.

He felt a possessive curl deep in his stomach every time one of them tried the blue ring, loosening at every failure. That’s Steve’s, his mind supplied, even though that was ridiculous, even though Luke and Peter and Sam had been using it for months. Steve loved that ring; the voice in his head repeated, and he forced the voice out.

He stood stock still as the rest tested the violet ring, only loosening when Black Bolt was the only one to even make it twinge. At least he could still be useful. Tony was tired of people taking things from him.

Charles Xavier seemed to take an interest in the indigo ring. “If nothing else they do, at the very least, seem rather useful, don’t they? Shielding, healing, flight—all without your suit, Tony?” Tony wanted to shift a little but managed to keep his back straight. His voice came out robotic when he said, “I’d be nicer if any of the other ones worked for me anymore.”

Xavier looked, if possible, even more curious. “How do you make it work so well, then?”

I think about Steve. It was not an answer he wanted to say out loud, but there are no secrets from Xavier. “Ah,” he said, and went back to the ring, “I don’t think,” he said, very carefully, “this works that way for me. Not exactly.”

Tony’s thankful for his voice modifier. His voice would be so hoarse otherwise. “They all work differently. You have to think about…different things to make them work right.”

Strange looked up sharply and all eyes turned toward him.

“Iron Man.” The chatter in the room broke off; Strange was fixated his eyes still locked on the ring he was holding in his hand, a frightening, intense look on his face. “Do you still have the box? With the markings that these arrived in.” Tony had barely gotten out a “yes,” before Strange swept toward the door with a quick, “bring it to me,” as he left the room, muttering about Wong and languages under his breath, taking the ring he was holding with him.

“That was really rude,” Tony called after him, but Strange only gave a swift flick of his hand before he was gone.

Irritated in only the way that someone figuring out something long before he did, Tony brought him the box.

*

Tony dealt with bomb threats, nukes, several highly persistent villains, the general hell of running SHIELD, and a past Steve Rogers coming to torture him, before Dr. Strange called another meeting. Tony supposed he must have been busy, but he couldn’t imagine he’d been busier than Tony had been. And besides, all in all, it was still sooner than the Illuminati usually meet with one another.

The Illuminati had taken individual rings, divided them the same way they divided the Infinity stones. Well, not exactly the same way. They each took a stone and never talked about them again. This was clearly a more acceptable subject.

Strange set the box down on the table. “It’s a language. The writing on and inside the box. A language and what appears to be an explanation on the properties of these rings. They seem to be based on, well, personality traits perhaps isn’t the right word to use here. Concepts might be more accurate. Concepts and how individuals embody them. And from what I can tell, they can do considerably more than what we have seen from them so far. Richard, you mentioned you thought they might be from another universe?” Reed nodded. “I think something like that might be the case. This marking on the top,” he ran his finger across a circular marking, “seems to translate to something like ‘elsewhere.’ And the marking on the side name the rings, the what they represent, and what they can do. In the right hands.” 

Strange’s explanation was absolutely fascinating, and Tony would have been riveted if it hadn’t entirely involved magic. He hadn’t realized how many questions he’d left in the back of his mind about what exactly made up the rings. How they were made, if he could replicate them, and he realized he hadn’t spared a thought to them in at least a year. Where had his curiosity gone.

Tony thought about his sudden inability to make the green ring work after Steve died. He  
supposed that could cause a loss in personality.

Red was for anger, apparently, and Tony’s mind went, well that was obvious. He thought about Steve and Luke, about Namor and Jessica and thought yes, yes that looks like rage. Steve hates that ring; Jessica couldn’t always make it work, and his heart constricted.

Green was willpower. Tony bit the inside of his cheek. Orange was greed, or something close. “It’s avarice. The work kind. Wanting and wanting until there’s nothing left.” Tony couldn’t use it—none of the Illuminati and he thought maybe that meant there was something good left inside him.

Strange glanced down at his finger as if it personality offended him. “Yellow is, apparently,  
driven by fear. As far as I can understand, that’s based on others fear of you, rather than your  
personal fear, however, this was not an exact translation.” Strange liked the yellow ring when they’d tried each of them on and Tony felt a sudden wave of horror. What was violet?

What was left inside Tony, that could still work, when fear and willpower were burned out.

”Translation for the blue ring was rather simple actually. It represents hope. Hope. Steve loved that ring. Tony closed his eyes. Steve and Peter, both of them couldn’t get enough of it.

He thought of Peter. _You crushed that hope._

Tony could never make that one do anything. Not even for a second. Every member of the Illuminati had tried and not a single one could make Steve’s ring do anything. Is that what they were lacking? Why couldn’t he have invited someone, anyone who thought something good could happen in the world.

“The violet ring is called the Star Sapphire. The translation is a bit strange, it’s a bit unclear  
which of these words the emphasis is on a bit unclear, but closest might be ‘obsession  
resembling love.’”

Tony’s first reaction was an embarrassing, inexplicable feeling of hurt. Then the full implications hit him.

Tony wanted to melt into the floor. He wished he was somewhere else. He wished he was  
drunk. Tony kept his back straight and his eyes straight forward, trying not to think about how no  
one was looking at him. He wanted to swallow, but his head was screaming at him not to make  
any noise, but maybe if he made noise the buzzing in his ears would stop and when was  
swallowing that loud to start with.

None of them would know what that meant, would they? They wouldn’t care enough to think about the—the implications. He knew that. He had to be right about that.

Why wouldn’t these people leave the room, so he could scream?

Tony was never going to leave his suit again.

If Doctor Strange said anything useful for the rest of the meeting, Tony didn’t hear it. He didn’t leave the room either. Later, he would play back the meeting in his mind, with indigo as compassion, with white as some all powerful force, something about black and resurrected corpses, but then he heard none of it. He kept very still, and very quiet, and tried not to think so hard about the ring on his left hand.

 

**Objective: Determination of emotional state.**

****

****

**Status: Bad. It’s bad—It’s clearly very clearly bad.**

**Action Needed: Unknown. Just wait until Steve is back. It’ll all be better when Steve is back.  
**


	3. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want it all. Or, Tony reflects on the fallout of war.

Sometime after the age of five, which was the earliest Tony could remember, before he was sent off to boarding school—an incredibly short period of his life—Jarvis read him bedtime stories. Tony wasn’t certain if these stories were Howard Stark approved, especially the fairytales, and he remembered one particularly unpleasant dinner when his father screamed at Jarvis about some book he read him. His mother made soft interjections and Tony fought not to put his hands against his ears to block out the shouting. He’d only done that once, and never again. But, someone must have stood up to Howard, his mother or Jarvis, because stories continued even afterward. That, or his father was so drunk he forgot he’d forbidden Jarvis in the first place. Tony preferred the first explanation. 

Tony’s personal favorite book was a colorful picture book of the story of King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. He’d ask Jarvis to read it over and over again until Jarvis eventually went out and bought more Arthurian legends, probably with his own money, Tony thought, with a pang that went straight through his chest, more than likely so he didn’t have to keep repeating the same story over and over. The more stories he consumed the more he started to piece together the characters, the storylines, the multilayered legends that made up the Arthurian legends. 

Tony didn’t think he had a favorite character: Morgana was fascinating, even if he never liked villains that much, same as Merlin, and he loved how heroic Galahad was. It took a while to get to Lancelot. The knight who sold his honor, his duty, everything over for love. The greatest knight in the world, so greatly admired, who betrayed all he’d ever known. Tony might have thought he was a knight with a fatal flaw, back when he was more ridiculous and romantic, but he never thought it would be Lancelot’s.

Tony thought, thought about the people he loved. Pepper and Rhodey weren’t speaking to him. Peter wasn’t speaking to him. Steve was dead. Jarvis was a Skrull and he never, even for a second, noticed. There was an entire invasion and Tony never noticed.

With repeated failure, a scientist must identify a common denominator. It was easy to reach a few conclusions after examining the evidence.

Maybe he was a collaborator, even if he never meant to be one. He failed his friends, his team, and his country.

Tony certainly never deserved a ring that ran on love.

*

**Objective: Primary objective: Ensure ongoing safety of past selves and associates. Steps to take: N/A. Secondary objective: Preservation of the current timeline. Steps to take: N/A Tertiary objective: Info to RW current self. Info to VD past self. Steps to take: White ring, VD, message box sent.**

**Status: Primary objective: Ongoing. Secondary objective: Ongoing. Tertiary objective: Complete.**

**Action Needed: Unknown.**

**_Maybe we should check in? You, he I mean, seems like he’s in kind of a bad place._ **

**No, he handled it the first time; he can handle it now.**

**Action Needed: N/A.**  

*

If the public had chosen a less horrifyingly evil and morally bankrupt leader, Tony would be more than happy to pack up and leave SHIELD forever, Thor’s accusations still burned into his mind, As things stood, Tony mostly wished he’d never have to look at Norman Osborn’s smug face for even a second longer. It was a healthy motivation for him to clear out his office just a little faster. 

Tony wasn’t surprised that an agent accosted him the moment he entered SHIELD, or, he supposed, HAMMER now. He also wasn’t surprised at the level of pure loathing the agent leveled at him. Tony was trying to remember if this man was ever under his command. Tony didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean he was Osborn’s. What Tony was surprised about was that they left him at a computer relatively unattended.

The agent glowered at Tony from the other side of the room and Tony decided Osborn was an idiot.

First: virus. He’d previously wiped out all physical traces of the registration list and his most dangerous tech, but there were a few more plans that needed to not be in with Norman freaking Osborn. Personal files, suit designs, information on the Infinity Stones, rings, and alternate dimensions, messages from the Illuminati, reports from the Avengers, records of villains, all scrubbed completely clean. If Osborn even tried to access this, he’d end up with several nasty surprises.

Second: he’d left what he could with Maria Hill and Rhodey, information on SHIELD and instructions on where to find his armor respectively. They knew what they’d have to do. He ought to talk to Jarvis in person. Ask him to destroy what he could. Make sure he stayed somewhere safe. Which left a message to Pepper. He hesitated, looked at the agent who never seemed to take his eyes off him, even though it couldn’t look like Tony was doing anything except turning off his computer at his point. He couldn’t send anything too sentimental—Pepper deserved better than his feelings. He closed his eyes and sent her directions to a flash drive. _Just in case_ , he sent, _you ever need me._

Third: Extremis. His brain. Hill might not approve of his plan, but she could hardly argue its utility. And now that he had a way to heal himself, she might actually agree to it. Tony stood up, looked up at the guard.

Norman Osborn stood in front of him.

An orange ring glowed on Osborn’s hand.

A burning, bitter feeling sunk low in Tony’s stomach. Rage, he thought, revulsion, then reassessed. It’d been a long time, he thought, that he’d felt afraid.

The orange ring, so disturbingly inactive on the hands of every single other person who wore it, turned a sickly color. Tony raised his palm, and—

And—

 

Tony woke in a white room, chained to the wall. Tony looked up. Osborn smiled. 

*

**Objective: Primary objective: Unclear. Processing.**

**Status: This is-is not what happened; he’s supposed to have erased his memories.**

**He--what are we supposed to do if he doesn’t?**

In another world, perhaps, Tony Stark forgot the Civil War, forgot his time as Director of SHIELD, his life on the run, the lives he mourned.

In this world, he woke up in a hospital bed with Pepper on one side of his bed and Rhodey Rhodes on the other, hesitation on each of their faces, and asked about Norman Osborn.

“Tony, you’ve been under for a while,” Pepper said, when he asked about the time.

“Some things have happened.” Rhodey avoided his eyes when Tony tried to look at him. “It’s kind of a long story, but to start with--we think you should know this first. That you’d want to know this point first.” Rhodey’s eyes met Pepper’s; Pepper’s eyes met Rhodney’s. 

“Steve’s alive.” 

*

**Objective: Ideal outcome: Situation seen above. Primary objective: Ensure ongoing safety of past selves and associates. Steps to take: Prevent Norman Osborn from gaining access to superhero registration. Secondary objective: Preservation of the timeline. Secondary objective: FAILED. Secondary objective: Preservation of the closest approximation of primary timeline.**

**Status: Ongoing. Let’s achieve it.**

**Action Needed: To be determined. Riri? Your thoughts?**


	4. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You the ability to instill great fear. Or, Norman Osborn launches his reign of terror.

**Floor 3, Room 356, H.A.M.M.E.R, Thunderbolts Mountain, CO 06/19/09: 00:11:47 AM**

Footage unavailable. Dialogue retrieved. 

Hartley, I: (heavy breathing) Fuck, fuck Vicki he just--

Hand, V: I know, I know, I saw. 

Hartley, I: he just fucking, he just fucking killed them. 

Hand, V: It was that ring. That’s where he got that power. We need to find out where he got it. (Dialogue lower--almost inaudible) How to stop it. 

Hartley, I: Are you listening Victoria? Osborn just killed three of our own goddam people. What the hell--what the hell have you gotten us into. 

Hand, V: I---God. Hartley, I: I have to tell their families. 

Hand, V: Lab accident. It was a lab accident until--until we can do something about Osborn. 

Hartley, I: I--I hate. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like. 

**FILE 965. Dialogue stored. Determination of use, filed.**

*

Norman Osborn had a problem. Norman Osborn actually had several problems, too disturbing and numerous to name, but the problem that he personally considered a problem was using the orange power ring without completely disintegrating the person in front of him. While that fact had several obvious disadvantages, in his opinion, due to the public relations hassle, in several others, due to the death of several people involved with Osborn’s experimentation, it did come with the rather useful side effect of him being rather reluctant to use the ring if he didn’t want the person in front of him dead. This also, in turn, came with a few disadvantages to the people Osborn did want dead.

**Objective: Primary objective--do not let Osborn anywhere near Parker, codename Spiderman. Secondary objective: Determine other figures most in danger at time. Monitor—Organizations: SHIELD/HAMMER, Avengers, Fantastic Four. Monitor—Individuals: OSBORN, NORMAN; Williams, Riri; Von Doom, Victor; Stark, Anthony; Osborn, Harry; Parker, Peter; Rhodes, James; Potts, Virginia; Hill, Maria; Fury, Nicolas; Barnes, James; Romanova, Natasha.**

**_Yeah, I’m a little concerned._ **

**Working on it; working on it.**

**Action Needed: Contact—Fantastic Four: Storm, Sue; Storm, John; Richards; Reed; Grimm, Benjamin. Additional contact, for his own protection: Parker, Peter.**

The one fortunate side effect in Osborn’s current level of power was that he needed to have at least some plausible deniability when it came to committing horrifying acts in defiance of the laws of man. There are murders one can get away with as a giant flying goblin and there are murders one can get way with as the head of a spy organization and there is little overlap in the venn diagram between the two. Fortunately for Peter Parker.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop strange, near constant attacks from villains on a almost continuous basis. “What is happening?” Parker landed on his feet in the Baxter building, followed a moment later by Sue and Johnny Storm, having just fended off Bullseye, Moonstone, and Daken who had turned a perfectly normal afternoon of fighting the Rhino into a near bloodbath before the Storm siblings showed up--which they had been doing a suspicious amount of lately. Parker has had to deal with at least four attacks from these three particular HAMMER employees along with one from Venom, two from people he’d never even met, and a strange cop who’d tried to shoot him instead of the active gunman he’d been webbing up. A grand total of all of these had been stopped by various members of the Fantastic Four and Parker pressed for answers early.

“With the messages?” Storm asked, stretching, as his sister wandered off. “No idea. I think Osborn’s got a mole.”

“Aww Normie’s doing this? Didn’t know he cared.” Parker didn’t take off his mask, but the disgusted look on his face was easy enough to visualize. “Should I be worried?”

“As long as we keep finding out when he’s planning on killing you? I wouldn’t be.” Storm clapped Parker on the shoulder. “Come on. Ben’s MIA and Sue and Reed are trying to do some kind of marriage counselling thing. Let’s get tacos.”

**FILE 934. Dialogue stored. Objective fulfilled. Continue monitoring situation as necessary. Send additional correspondence to Storm, John and Storm, Sue as necessary.**

*

**Objective: Primary objective: Make certain Osborn does not get any additional power he has not already achieved.**

_**I’m not super worried worried. I mean, I don’t see any way he’ll be able to use any of the other rings.** _

**Basement Floor, H.A.M.M.E.R, Thunderbolts Mountain. Unknown Date. Unknown time.**

Osborn tried to use the violet ring for what must have been the fiftieth time. Stark leaned up from the wall, watching him, or something else, with rapt fasination. This was not the first time. This would not be the last time.

When Osborn retrieved the blue and orange ring from Stark’s office, he’d assumed the blue was defunct. But he knew Stark used the violet one time and time again. He ripped it from Stark’s finger when he locked him up, and Stark made such a horrified face the first time Osborn tried it, but it settled once nothing came from it.

You won’t be able to use it, you know, Stark said. It’s not in your nature. It’s not why you do what you do. Stark’s face was bloody, but he smiled, a secret sort of smile. He never said anything past the first time. Today was no different.

“How do you use it?”

Stark stared off into the distance, clenching his hands, back and forth, staring at his fingers.

“Are you listening, Stark.”

Stark stared at the corner of the room at something clearly only he could see. Osborn’s eyes were slits as he waved a man in.

**_I don’t want to watch this._ **

“Make him listen.”

**You don’t have to.**

Osborn watched as Stark muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling, talking to something only he could see until he couldn’t talk anymore.

_**You don’t have to watch this either.** _

Osborn thought maybe he’d have to be insane to use that ring.

**Yes, I do.**

**FILE 986. Dialogue stored. Determination of use, filed.**

*

**Objective: Permanent interference with Norman Osborn’s plans. Primary objective: Preservation of life. Secondary objective: Dismantling of current power structure. Tertiary objective: Preservation of timeline.** **Scrapped.**

**Don’t think we’re getting back to our timeline anytime soon.**

_**Might not be a bad thing? Except for the obvious.** _

**Let’s see how this ends, before we start making judgment calls.**

**Action Needed: Files sent to Danvers, Carol.**

**790—Record of Osborn, Norman, on attempts to retrieve superhero registry**

**122—Records of lantern corp power information**

**881—Dialogue recorded between Sofen, Karla and Bullseye (Name Unknown) on failed attempt on Parker, Peter.**

**965—Dialogue recorded between Hand, Victoria and Hartley, Isabella—sent.**

_**You’re not sending 986?** _

**…I’m not.**

**Attached Message: Captain Marvel. It’s come to my attention you—**

**_Not very personal is it._ **

**Attached Message: Carol. Watch these. Do whatever it is you can do with them. You’ve got this.**

 

**Basement Floor, H.A.M.M.E.R, Thunderbolts Mountain 08/18/09: 00:03:38 PM**

Carol stared forward at the crumpled man before her. “Oh god.” She closed her eyes, opened them, summoned up as much energy as she could and shouted. “Medic! We need a medic. Now.”

Tony Stark woke up in a pristine white room, looked around, and looked up. Steve Rogers looked back.

“Oh,” Tony blinked quickly. “I’m hallucinating again.” Steve made a noise Tony couldn’t identify and covered his face with his hand. “No, Tony. You’re not.”

And if Steve reached out and touched his hand, Tony faded too fast back into unconsciousness to notice, where he dreamed of a world where Steve was alive.

*

**Objective: Maintain the lives of Avengers. Complete. Objective: Take Norman Osborn out of power. Complete. Objective: Maintain timeline. Failed.**

**Action Needed: Unknown.**

_**Think we created an alternate universe?** _

**Possibly?** **More like an alternate timeline. Might make it a new universe.**

_**Not really your area of study, or mine, I guess.** _

**I think we’ll have to ask Victor.**

**_...You can do that._ **

**Action Needed: Maintain monitoring. Interference only as necessary. Send files 1, 3, 9, and 122 to Riri Williams. Send files 1, 3, and 122 to Victor Von Doom. Send file 3 to Tony Stark.**

_**Not a lot of information. Think that’ll work?** _

**You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.**

_**I’m not so much worried about me. Bit more worried about you. Didn’t really give you a lot to go on.** _

**Trust me. I don’t think he needs anything else.**

**Action Needed: Items sent.**


	5. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have the ability to inspire great hope.

Carol visited. Rhodey visited. Pepper harassed a series of military personnel and, having done something Tony was pretty certain involved blackmail, also visited. To Tony’s surprise, so did several of his employees, Henry Hellrung and, to his even further surprise, Bucky Barnes with a quiet Black Widow, who told him everything Carol hadn’t that happened in the last six months. Reed Richards came to ask a few technical questions that had built up while Tony wasn’t there to assist him. Maria Hill did not visit so much as come by to have an extended interrogation. Tony was mostly thankful he wouldn’t have to share details of the last several months with Carol.

Tony took in information, one piece at a time. Without Extremis, Tony was completely human. And as much trouble as it had caused him, as many distrubed looks and thoughts he'd weathered from everyone around him, he would cut off his arm to have Extremis back now. Recovery was almost worse than captivity had been. A month in some stupid, horrible SHIELD hospital with no one to get him out and nowhere to go if he let himself out. The government still had control of his assets with how much Norman Osborn had used them they were still part of an ongoing investigation. His money, his suits, his property was held by Pepper, but everything else was completely outside his access. Tony still wasn’t cleared of all charges with his supposed involvement with the Skrull Invasion. Everyone had thought he was dead.That last piece of information came directly from Pepper, quietly through tears pushed back tears.

Everyone talked to him differently. Rhodey told him about PTSD, support groups he’d been to and had recommended to others. Natasha talked about captivity, casualty, about the loss of freedom and how it drains one, as Bucky stared silently at the door. Platitudes from his employees, comfort from Henry, news delivered in bits and pieces from Carol, a sharp nod and a reluctant “welcome back” from Maria, were all comforting, in their own individual ways.

His doctors told him the truth. The actual physical torture was going to take the least time to recover from. Cuts would heal. His hearing would never be the same again, but the loss wasn’t permanent in the ear it out in, it had never meant to be. His broken leg was more of an issue—it would take at least several months to heal and there was nothing that could be done for his ankle. There were also, apparently, several unintended consequences for being confined for months. His muscles atrophied. He was dangerously underweight. He wasn’t going to be getting in any work, and he certainly wasn’t going to be a superhero for a very long time.

He remembered reading, after Afghanistan, that one’s body started to cannibalize itself after a few days and his sleep deprived brain found that was psychically funny. Carol was in the middle of talking to him when he sat up and laughed. She stopped and turned toward him, eyes wide. “Tony?” Her voice couldn’t decide if it wanted to be hesitant or questioning. A blonde orderly passed by the window and all the hysterical joy left him in an instant.

“Sorry, just thought of something funny.” The blonde man stopped by Tony’s room and Carol followed his gaze. Steve still hadn’t visited, since the first day.

“Carol?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“Could you…” He wet his lips. It would be a bit before he could get out of here. It would be longer before he could go back to work. And it would be a very long time before anyone would trust him with his armor. But, even so. “Do you think you could get ahold of that—of some things Osborn took?” He met her gaze and prayed he wouldn’t have to tell her more. She stared back and, slowly, slowly nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

_**How’s he doing?** _

**Surprisingly okay.**

_**That’s a shock.** _

Between invasions, teams dissolving, reforming and several near end of the world scenarios, Steve and Tony shift around one another, talking sparingly, catching each other’s eyes and looking away the moment they do. In another world, Tony pulled years of memories out and Steve found it easy to forgive, but in this world it was hard to know what to say. Missions follow missions. When he couldn’t wear armor, he held tight to a more magical power. Tony couldn’t tell if it was easier or harder to use the ring now that Steve was back, actually physically there and not some hallucination sent to miserably haunt him. He thought it might be harder, but his stomach wouldn’t sink every time he used it now, so he felt it was a fair trade. 

Slowly, carefully, Tony fell back in step. And, eventually, thankfully, Steve fell beside him.

The forgiveness of Captain America counted for more than most. It counted for more to Tony than anything, but it meant something to the rest of the country as well. Tony and Steve publically working together was one thing; that meant shots from cameras and think-pieces posted online, editorials in the newspapers, rants and conspiracy theories on television and in the Daily Planet, what it meant was a public softening to both of them, a lack of planetary disasters luling people into forgiveness. A governmental clearing of Tony’s name improved his public persona, but it wasn’t until the day, nearly a year after his hospitalization that Steve approached him, asked him casually if he wanted to get something to eat that the vice grip on Tony’s heart started to loosen and he could breathe. 

He could fly without his suit anytime after that. 

It had been a while since Tony had gone out with his armor.  He’s learned to be without, shifting focus from his recovery to his company as attention began to slide off him and back onto the myriad of villains and destructive forces outside. The trial of Norman Osborn was a public spectacle—the wave of gratitude he received from the public after defeating the Skrull Queen wasn’t going to be maintained after a damning, horrifying spread of evidence found mostly by Carol Danvers detailing highlights like the murder of SHIELD agents, a truly horrifying plan for mutants, the treatment of prisoners under Osborn’s watch, prisoners like Tony. His torture was on the Internet somewhere. It was a heavy thought and he steered away from it. Sent his mind on a different direction. 

What he liked most about his ring, what he got most from it, he’d realized, was flying. He missed his armor dearly, working in something he’d built, the ability to hide his face, all the protection the ring couldn’t replicate. There’s only so much sunglasses could hide, and it was hard to wear them in the air. He wondered if he could design some sticky sunglasses. 

When Pepper called him back to the office, he’d almost had a normal day.   
  


**Floor 92, Stark Tower, New York, NY: 10/20/10: 00:09:42 PM**

Tony sat. Steve sat next to him. Tony let Pepper pull him around to meetings all day. Steve ran around SHIELD. Some b-grade supervillain tried to blow up some buildings and Tony felt something close enough to normal that when he put his hand into his pocket what came out of his mouth was “I’ve got something to give you.”

Steve looked, smiled just a bit when Tony reached over to him, before his eyes wrinkled with confusion as Tony reached out for him. Tony was struck with the idea that it had been such a long time since they’d touched that he nearly faltered before he regrouped, finished what he needed to do.Tony tried not to think about metaphors, about the concept he could in any way give Steve hope. “Here.” The blue ring sat in the palm of Steve’s hand. “Osborn got ahold of it, but he couldn’t use it. Not sure I should have it, but, you liked it, didn’t you?”

Steve nodded, still looking at Tony and not down at what was in his hand. “I did like it. Thank you Tony.” A frown seemed to grow on his face and Tony rushed through possibilities on what he could have possibly done wrong this time. “How did you get ahold of this? I’d have thought the government would have gotten it.” Or Osborn hung in the air.

“I had it the whole time. Osborn,” Tony would not give that man the satisfaction of tripping on his name, “he tried, but he couldn’t use it. Not once.” Steve still looked slightly confused. No, not confused, he understood what Tony was saying. Concerned. 

It was time for limited amounts of explanations. 

“Each of the rings, they all,” Tony coughed, re-evaluated, rephrased, “while you were gone,” not dead, never dead because Steve wasn’t dead, “Strange translated that box. We—I mean—this group met up,” Steve tensed and Tony soldiered on, “took the ones that worked, but, we found out, apparently, they’re based on—well it’s stupidly magical nonsense who even knows how these things actually run it defies all explanation.”

“Tony.” Steve gave a very Steve look.

Tony deflated, shrunk back on the couch, spun the ring back and forth in his hand. Steve’s eyes were back to hard, not angry, just concentrating, Tony hoped. “Well, they’re powered by ideas. Concepts. I kept the blue ring; Osborn,” Steve tensed, “tried and couldn’t, obviously, but none of the rest of us could either. But I remember, you liked it so much. And apparently, it’s powered,” Tony nearly cringed by kept on, “I mean it runs on hope.”

There was little as wonderful to see as the light coming back to Steve’s eyes all at once.

“Thank you.” He slipped it onto his finger. Goosebumps ran up Tony’s arms, up his neck. “Thank you, Tony.” Steve’s face softened, and Tony realized, suddenly, he’d not seen Steve so relaxed in ages. Tony stood. “I wanted—I wanted to give it to you. That’s all.” He turned.

And Steve’s hand was on him. Tony’s body went rigid but Steve just squeezed his wrist. “It’s a nice night,” Steve said, his posture so relaxed, “if you don’t have to work,” Steve said, his smile so wide, “and if you want, you can stay,” Steve said, his eyes so bright and blue.

And so, Tony stayed. The night was dark and warm and Tony felt that if he moved even an inch further into Steve’s space he would never leave. 

__


End file.
